[center][h3][color=lightgreen]Gadri Abzan[/color] and [color=BlueViolet]Madame Morvanne[/color] [/h3]

Addressing [@Antediluvixen][/center]

Gadri pulled themselves to their feet and carefully rewound their saw, placing it back where it belonged among their other tools. Its job was done, and now it was time for another to take the fore. As all good smiths did, they had quite a few hammers adorning their belt and lined up in their wagon, but only one would do for this strange situation. Three pounds of alloyed starmetal on a thick steel haft, shimmering in the clearing carved out by this alien craft. The weight was familiar in their hand, the script intricately woven into its haft a tale of splendour, craftsmanship and durability.

But in a pinch, it could crack skulls just as easily as it worked a piece of white-hot metal. 

A figure poked its head out of the hatch that Gadri had opened, then yelped and dived back in. The only thing that the dwarf had glimpsed was a pair of fluffy ears and the briefest sight of eyes, which told them... Almost nothing as to its inhabitants, other than that they were perhaps one of the beastraces.

Or at least, that's what Gadri had thought, until a [i]second[/i] pair of ears came out of the capsule, soon followed by one of the oddest specimens they had seen in their three-score-and-ten years in the caravan. They had seen the beastraces in all manner, shape and form, and equally they had seen any number of dwarflike races too... But the only peoples they had seen that came somewhat close to the stranger now emerging out before them was the snakelike Dinnin- half of one, half of the other.

And this was definitely not a Dinnin. 

In fact, not only was it (she?) definitely [i]not[/i] a Dinni but she also appeared to be armed, and was now yelling very, very loudly in a language that Gadri had never heard. Before the dwarf could hope to begin puzzling this out however, a message - carried by the wind from the caravan to their ears, swept over them.

[i]Stay away from that thing.[/i]

Morvanne grit her teeth a little as the message reached her ears. One of her hands had already come down to her little satchel to draw free her wand, but this... This was wrong. All of it, badly wrong.

Contrary to what some may think, Obliturges had no intrinsic ability to understand essences. They existed in all living things and many unliving things besides - seeing the ever-present powers that laid behind the world would be a maddening experience… But she didn’t need to [i]see[/i] the roiling energies surrounding this foreign object to know that was wrong.

It lay in the furrow it had carved like a cancer - unnatural and foreign. The forest resisted it, the skies had rejected it… And now Gadri had let whatever dwelt within it free. 

[color=BlueViolet]“Non est mea culpa…”[/color]

[hr]
[center][h3][color=khaki]Malleck ‘Freepaw’[/color][/h3]
Addressing [@Tortoise]][/center]

Of all the folks currently within the caravan, it was perhaps Malleck who realised what was going on first. His ears were broad and sensitive - sensitive enough that the onrush of air tickled the sensitive hairs at the edges of his hearing long before the unrefined senses of the human he was next to. His head snapped back, away from Athulwin, and he stared up into the sky, eyes just about making out the uneven shape as it tumbled down through the air.

He stared at it until it vanished behind the trees, and for a moment, the only thing that ran through his mind was a simple [color=khaki]”A God?[/color]

Then came the storm. A sundering blow loud enough for his ears to fold over in pain, the entertainer wincing a little at its fury just as the gust of wind blasted over the halted line of wagons and carts. He looked up just in time to see the energies swirl around his monastic compatriot… And [b]stay there[/b] creating a storm that buffets the young Ainok. His tambourine lets out an almighty clatter as the swirling energies rattle its zills about. For a moment he takes a half-step forward, unsure of what to do but every instinct telling him that nothing is not an option, before Athulwin’s mouth opens, and the winds die almost instantly.

But then it as if nothing happened, and the sparkle that is so common in Malleck’s eyes has returned. His friend is struggling to stand. Before Athulwin can so much as let the flame tickle the back of his throat the hound-man is stepping forward, taking one of the monk’s arms and bracing it over his shoulder.

[color=khaki]”It’s Malleck anyway,[/color] he joked as he began to stand back up. [color=khaki]”I think you humans have a joke about formalities being owed to their parents? But nah, it’s always just Malleck. Freepaw’s to let myfolks know that I ain’t done nothing wrong to be wandering like this.”

His tail begun a steady rhythm of wags[/color] and he let a toothy grin split his lips. [color=khaki]”Come on then Mr Athulwin, let’s go meet this God, hmm?[/color]